Rejuvenated
by MagicMan01
Summary: An alternate version of Hollis Mason's fight with the Knot Tops in his house. Dedicated to any Hollis Mason/Nite Owl fans out there. Rated T for some language and fisticuffs.


**For those of you who have seen the director's cut of Watchmen or read the graphic novel itself, you would have witnessed the tragic, brutal murder of Hollis Mason. He was the original Nite Owl and the mentor and close friend of Dan Dreiberg, or Nite Owl II. He was beaten to death in his own home at the hands of the Knot Tops, a local gang in New York that mistakes the poor old man for Dan after the prison riot. However, in my version, things end up a little differently...**

**-Disclaimer- Watchmen is a brilliant work of fiction and one of the greatest graphic novels ever written. I don't think I have the kind of skill to pull something off like that even if I wanted to, so obviously, it's not mine.**

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_**Rejuvenated**_

Hollis Mason was sitting in a comfortable chair in the living room of his New York home. He was talking to his old friend and former crime fighting partner Sally Jupiter over the phone, discussing events past and present, serious and trivial. It was Halloween and the kids had just started going out, so he wasn't surprised to hear someone knock on his door. "Well, it's been great talkin' to ya, Sal," Hollis remarked to his old friend as he glanced over at the door. "But, uh, someone's knockin.'"

"Well, don't get too misty-eyed thinkin' about old times," Sally suggested in an almost therapeutic manner.

Both retired superheroes chuckled softly. Ah, those were the days. Crime fighting in the 1940's was definitely a lot different than now in 1985. But who was Hollis Mason to stop time? Or any of the crime fighters, for that matter. Hell, the Doomsday Clock was close enough to midnight at this point, and everyone in America knew what that meant...

"You take care now, Hollis," Sally said, effectively getting Hollis out of one of his nostalgic trances he often had.

"Oh, you, too."

"Bye," said Sally.

"Bye," echoed Hollis.

He set the phone back in its receiver to hang up as Sally did the same on the other line. Putting one of his hands on his chin to think for a little while, he stared at his telephone, beginning to reminisce about the past. Suddenly, a few more sharp knocks at the door sounded, bringing him back to the present.

"We're lookin' for Mr. Owl," a voice on the other end announced with a distinctive Brooklyn accent.

Mason looked up. So the kids _did _know who he was. Well, he would certainly give them some extra candy for that! A smile flickered on his face for less than half a second with pride and joy at the mention of his alter ego as he rose from his chair to open the door.

"Yeah. Hold your horses!" he announced as he crossed the room.

"Mr. Owl! You there?" the voice persisted, perhaps sounding a little impatient.

Some kids just couldn't wait for their candy! As he neared the door, though, something flickered in Hollis' brain. Something just didn't seem right about that voice. Kind of like it was too old and experienced to be a young boy who simply wanted some candy on Halloween. However, he cast this thought aside as he gripped the doorknob to open the door a crack. Honestly, what were the chances of something happening to him tonight? He still left the chain lock on in case if the kids turned out to be trouble, which he really didn't really expect unless they were rowdy teenagers.

"Trick or treat!" announced the voice on the other end of the door with a laugh. A small chorus of laughter sounded off behind him.

Hollis gasped quietly. Something was _definitely_ wrong here. He knew exactly what it was when he looked out and saw five men in biker suits standing outside his door. Damn! He knew them from somewhere; he just couldn't remember the name of their gang. What was it again? The Knot Tops? Yes, that was it!

What the hell were they doing on his front porch and why did they look like they wanted to beat him to a pulp? He'd put plenty of criminals away in his lifetime, but he'd never even heard of these guys until last month when they were involved in that bar fight. Left a guy dead and three in critical conditions, actually.

"Shoulda stayed retired, Owl," one threatened.

Mason's eyes went wide as he quickly shut the door and tried to lock it, but the younger men were too quick for him. One of them kicked it open, causing the wooden door to swing back and hit Hollis in the face. The old man was sent flying backwards from the force of the door and fell on his coffee table, breaking it to pieces. The five men entered and formed a small semi-circle in front of the door, looking down at their prey with the kind of menace only punks like they could have. Hollis looked up in shock at his attackers. What did they want from him? He'd never bothered or associated with them, so why were they breaking down his door and trying to kill him?

As he started to get up, one of the Knot Tops threw a right hook at him, but he was able to catch the man's hand in midair and squeeze while pushing back on it, forcing the man to loosen his grip in pain. Hollis drew his right hand back as he delivered a powerful punch to the man's jaw. He took a mere step back as the other Tops took turns hitting the elderly man. But he was able to hold his own against the blows, punching back a couple of his attackers before going on the offensive again.

Blocking his face with both hands, he didn't see a punch coming that sent him back into a cabinet. The impact of his body broke the glass and sent transparent shards falling to the floor, covering the carpet like snow on a sidewalk. He was able to keep himself upright by steadying himself on the shelf next to the cabinet. Trying to maintain his balance, his hands were careless as they bumped a few copies of "Under the Hood" and the picture of him with the Minutemen in 1940. The sentimental objects fell to the carpet as the picture frame shattered to pieces, adding more glass to the floor.

Another member rushed Hollis with a right hook as the older man quickly ducked under his arm and appeared to his side. When he recovered a moment later and spun around to continue his beating of the old man, he was greeted by a left jab to the jaw. His head was violently rocked by the punch, sending blood spraying out of his mouth as he stumbled to the side. Another Knot Top tried to bring his fist down on Mason, but the old man blocked it and countered with a powerful punch to the face. The hoodlum spun away, making a hole for another attacker.

Hollis was rushed once more by the group. This time, he was unable to hold his own against all of them and became a human punching bag. It only took them a few successful punches to force him on his knees with his head buried in the floor. They formed a tight circle around the old man and looked down at him, not feeling pity or regret for even a second. The bastard had somehow broken Rorschach out of prison and that was _completely_ unacceptable! That crazy, mask-wearing son of a bitch had put enough of their men and friends in wheelchairs, casts, and comas to give the city hospitals a sizeable fortune. This man, no matter how old he was, had to pay for his alliance with their enemy.

One of the Knot Tops looked around for a bit, trying to find something to finish the old man off. A brass trophy caught his eye and he smiled to himself, pushing his way through the circle to grab it from the table. He flipped it in his hand, feeling its weight and texture as he imagined crushing the Nite Owl's skull with it. "In Gratitude," it said. He snorted to himself. Gratitude for what, going out at night and masquerading around New York City as a comic book superhero?

Reminding himself of why he hated this man, he entered the circle again, preparing to finish off the old man. The other men were taking turns kicking him in his chest as he lay helpless on the floor. Seeing the other member come back with his preferred weapon of choice, one of them turned the former Nite Owl over with his foot and stepped aside to allow his friend to do the dirty work. The old man rolled over onto his back, his eyes adjusting to the light. They widened when he saw one of the punks standing over him with his own brass trophy in his hand.

Ironic. The thing he'd personally received from the mayor of New York nearly forty years earlier for proving there was still some good in the city was now going to be the death of him. He stared with wide eyes as the man raised the trophy in his hand and brought it down upon him, seemingly in slow motion.

Well, this was it. All those years of crime fighting and saving innocent people to find himself beaten to death in his own home by a group of punks who were probably hopped up on drugs. It wasn't exactly what he'd imagined himself doing when he was in his thirties and sending no-good criminals behind bars. It just went to show that nothing really ever works out the way you want it to. But yet, here he was. Hopefully, this wouldn't be too painful. He'd already been through enough pain in his life to have to go through any more.

Wait a minute! What the hell was he doing? Why was he lying on the ground and cowering like a little kid about to be beaten senseless by a schoolyard bully in grade school?! These guys, these _punks_, had no idea who they were dealing with. They were messing with Nite Owl! The _original_ Nite Owl! He may have been old, but he could still teach these guys a lesson or two! He needed to get up right now and throw them out of his house, which they really had no right to be in.

He quickly formulated a plan for dealing with these Knot Tops as he swept his right leg against his would-be killer's right ankle, causing the man to drop the trophy and fall to the floor with a thud. The other Knot Tops, completely stunned, merely watched as Hollis jumped on the man, grabbed him by the collar and repeatedly punched him in the face. Teeth and blood mixed into the carpet as the man's nose, jaw, and teeth were broken by Mason's punches. He stopped when he thought the man wouldn't be able to get up without assistance from anyone else.

Hollis turned to face the other four men, who were giving him shocked expressions all around. They had clearly just lost all sense of malevolence after seeing one of their own men have the living hell beat out of him. One even had the nerve to speak up!

"Hey, man," he said shakily as he put his hands up in a surrendering fashion, taking a few steps back. "We- we don't want any trouble, okay?" Surprisingly, the others backed up with him.

Hollis looked at the lot of troublemakers, sweeping their eyes with his own. The cowards. They had no problem ganging up on a poor old man home alone, but as soon as one of their own went down, they all run way. He stared them down for a few moments more, enjoying the way they winced every time he narrowed his eyes at them. "You punks take your friend here and get out of my house right now before I call the police," he threatened.

The four men were all too eager to comply; they brought their downed member to a standing position and supported him to walk as Mason backed away and waited for them to leave. Hollis just stood there and crossed his arms over his chest, walking to the doorway after they left his home. He watched them go down the street, supporting the man in the middle as he walked with a limp.

He smiled and shut the door, locking it. He was about to lock the chain when he remembered that the punks had broken it when they kicked the door in. Oh well. Even if he did have to buy a new one (and some new furnishings for his house, for that matter) it was worth a little fun with the local lowlife. Reminded him of the old days, actually.

He walked over to where the Minutemen picture had fallen and took it out of the shattered frame, being careful not to cut himself on the broken glass. He held the picture close to his face and looked fondly at himself and the other heroes and heroines that were New York's defenders of the forties. He was sure they would be proud of him if they were all still alive.

Hollis arranged his living room as best as he could and sat back down. He glanced over at his telephone and decided to call Sally up. After all, their conversation _had _ended on a bit of an abrupt note. He picked up the phone and dialed her number, holding the receiver to his ear in anticipation of talking with the woman he used to have a secret crush on. She answered less than a minute later after a short series of rings.

"Hello?" she picked up.

"Hey, Sal," he smiled. "It's Hollis. I believe we were in the middle of a conversation before I was interrupted."

"Yes, we were," she remarked, sounding eager to continue. "Do you wanna pick up where we left off?"

"Of course," Hollis charmed. "But something first before we continue; you're not gonna _believe _a story I have for you!"

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**So, was this enjoyable? Better than the canon material or did you like Hollis dying? Feel free to tell me in your reviews! This is probably the only Watchmen story I'm going to write, unless, of course, I have a better idea in the future. Oh, and one last thing; if you don't have access to the director's cut of Watchmen on DVD, you can easily find the video of Hollis Mason's death on YouTube. Not that I enjoy his death or anything, it's just that it may help you understand the background of this oneshot a little easier. See you all later!**


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